


Closure

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-15
Updated: 2004-05-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin is asked to speak about the bashing.  Set in S4 after the pink posse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin was brooding when I came home. He was sitting at the table, pencil in hand, just staring at a blank page in his sketch book. I knew something was up.

“What’s the matter?” Justin looked at me like my voice had shocked him out of whatever deep thoughts he was thinking. 

“Nothing,” he replied. Give me a break. I know when something’s wrong.

“Let’s try this again. What’s wrong?” He looked at me with a pained expression on his face. I tried to suppress the panic that I started to feel. Christ, I don’t like the emotions this kid brings out in me. Well not really. Not always. Sometimes.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. Daphne asked me something today and I don’t know how to answer her.” I waited patiently for him to tell me what she had asked. When he didn’t offer any further explanation I decided he needed a little encouragement. I sat down in front of him and ran my fingers through his hair. Thank God it’s growing back. I know that I told him his haircut was hot after he shaved his head but I really missed his hair. 

He sighed and met my eyes. “Daphne is helping to organize a panel on hate crime at her school. She asked me a couple of days ago if I’d go. I told her sure, what the hell. Hate crime is an issue that I care about. But then today she started acting weird. She made me coffee in the morning, complimented me on my outfit-“ I snorted. The kid is wearing his standard khaki’s and an oversized sweater. There’s nothing complimentary about it! He smiled.

“Yeah, that’s how I knew she wanted something. She’s usually the one giving me fashion advice, not praising me on my clothing choice. It only gets weirder though. She took me out to lunch. When I asked her why she simply said, ‘can’t a girl treat her best friend to lunch?’ Well, how could I turn her down? I mean it was free food.” I laughed. There’s not much that could turn Justin away from free food.

“Then today when I got home from class I discovered a plate of my favorite chocolate chocolate-chip brownies awaiting me on the counter. Daphne *never* bakes, let alone bakes for me. So I knocked on her door because I wanted to find out what the fuck was going on. Finally she just spit it out. She wants me to be a speaker on the panel, to ‘tell my story as a survivor of hate crime and how it’s affected my life.’” He looked back down at his sketchbook and began to draw concentric circles with his pencil.

“What did you tell her?” He seemed genuinely upset. Not that I could blame him.

“Well, I was speechless for a good minute.” I snorted again. The boy is *never* speechless.

“Huh. That’s all it takes to shut you up? I could learn a few things from Daphne. Though, shoving my nine-inch cock down your throat does the trick too.” He smirked and lightly smacked my chest. That was a good sign. I always try to lighten the situation when Justin’s upset, and bringing my dick into the conversation always seems to work. He gets too serious, and if someone isn’t there to bring him out of it he’ll get lost in his own little melancholy world. 

“So what’d you say once the cat released your tongue?”

“I told her I’d have to think about it. She said she understood and to take all the time I needed. I don’t know why I couldn’t just say yes then and there. It’s something I need to talk about, something I want to talk about. But it scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure I’m ready to share my story. I know I have to do it though.” Justin is brave. Really fucking brave. I can’t even think about what happened and he’s willing to talk about the most traumatic experience of his life with a room full of strangers. I wish I had half of his courage. 

“Are you sure? Is this something you really want to do?” I took is right hand into my own. I just knew he needed that connection right then.

“Sure? No. Is it something I want to do? No. But it’s something I have to do. I think it might give me closure.” I kissed him lightly on the lips. He’s more man than I will ever be.

“Then you should do it. Just remember to picture the audience naked when you’re standing in front of them. I’ve heard that helps.” He laughed. A genuine laugh.

“Yeah, but only the hot ones. Picturing trolls, and women, in the buff would probably make me too queasy to talk.” He smiled briefly but then he got a blank look and stared down at his sketch pad again. 

“Justin? Where’d you go?” He looked at me, looked through me. Those fucking blue eyes always go right through me. I always feel naked under their scrutiny, even when I’m fully clothed. Which isn’t often. He moved closer and started to kiss me and trying to unbutton my shirt. Uh uh. He’s not using my own tactics of avoidance against me. 

I pulled away gently. “Justin, I invented using sex as a way of avoiding conversation. Don’t think you can pull that on me. I’m on to you.” He smiled sheepishly and moved his hands from my buttons to my knees. He cast his eyes down again. Here it comes.

“Ok. I was just wondering if, well, I was wondering maybe, uh”

“Spit it out already!”

“I was wondering if you’d come. If you’d be there while I give my speech. I’d really like you to come.” Now it was my turn to be rendered speechless.


	2. Closure

Three days later I found myself sitting on a folding chair in a lecture hall at PIFA. The audience was mostly college students and professors so I felt a little out of place. But I knew that Justin needed me there so I dealt. There were four speakers before Justin and I’m sure they had very poignant and important things to say but honestly I found myself dozing off. I’ve never really had a long attention span and generally I’m the one everyone is paying attention to. 

After some girl named Rosetta (yes, like the stone) finished talking about anti-Semitism or something, Justin took the stage. He wouldn’t let me see what he had written before hand so I really had no idea what he was going to say. He looked a little nervous as he approached the podium but when he started to speak he just seemed so natural. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

“Hello everyone. My name is Justin Taylor. I am here today to tell you my story but I should warn you that this is the first time I have really talked about it publicly, so forgive me if I stumble a little. I am standing up here not as a victim of a hate crime, but as a survivor of one. However it is only recently that I can truly call myself a survivor. Though the incident happened 3 years ago, only now am I finally beginning to come to terms with it. Ok. Here’s my story.

For most people, the senior prom is a time of mixed emotions. Everyone is looking forward to the big event but there is a lot of preparation involved. Finding the perfect dress or tux, renting a limo, getting a hotel room afterwards, and most importantly, finding a date. That is the extent of the angst that most students experience. At first I didn’t want to go to my prom. I thought it was just an event for straight kids. But then my mom and my surrogate family convinced me that I had just as much of a right to enjoy my prom as any straight kid. So, I decided, what the hell? I’ll go.

The person I wanted to go with turned me down when I asked him The man I asked is somewhat older than me and he said he’d rather be caught dead than be seen in a room full of ‘fucking’ 18 year olds. I hadn’t actually expected him to say yes but I figured I had nothing to lose. So, when he told me he wouldn’t come I asked my best friend Daphne. Luckily, she agreed. Nobody wants to be the person to go stag to their senior prom. Eventually we made it to the prom, without too much of the normal angst and drama. Daphne and I were having a great time. We were dancing, laughing, living it up. She looked hot, I looked hot. I couldn’t have asked for a better night. But it did get better. At one point, Daphne stopped dancing and looked towards the doorway with a sheepish grin on her face. I followed her gaze and saw the man, whom I had originally asked to be my date, walking towards me. I was amazed, I couldn’t breathe. He was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. He came over and asked Daphne if he could borrow her date. He then pulled me into the center of the floor and we began to dance. We had the entire floor to ourselves. Everyone else became a bystander. They were awed by our chemistry, by our boldness, and by our beauty. I’m sure two men dancing together is not a sight that most people see at a senior prom. 

We danced and danced and, when the song ended, my lover swept me outside to the parking garage where his Jeep was parked. All the way to his car we were singing and dancing and goofing around. He wrapped a white silk scarf that he had been wearing around my neck and pulled me into a passionate kiss. I couldn’t have been more happy or in love. I was walking on clouds. After the kiss he got into his car and told me he’d see me later. It was the best night of my life. The only problem is, I don’t remember any of it. All of what I have told you was told to me like it was someone else’s story. Like I wasn’t even there that night. After, leaving my lover and proceeding to walk inside, a baseball bat collided with my head. I was knocked out immediately and nearly died on the floor of that parking garage. The only thing I remember from that night is my lover calling my name and me turning around to face him. He was trying to warn me. By the time he got to me I was already lying in a pool of blood.

I spent several weeks in a coma and 3 months in the hospital. I wasn’t able to attend my high school graduation because I was unconscious and hooked up to countless machines. The last few weeks of senior year are supposed to be carefree and light. I wasn’t even awake during that time. Luckily, I didn’t have any permanent brain damage though I have lost some control over my right hand. This is especially troubling because I am an artist. I have had to find new ways to do my art that don’t require such a steady hand. I use a computer now.

I’ve never told anyone this until now but throughout my entire recovery period I could only think one thought: this was all my fault. My attacker was a fellow student with whom I had a rendez-vous in the locker room after school one day. After that day he had it out for me. I guess he wanted to make sure that I never told one anyone that he was a big nelly queer. The problem is, I did tell people. He was terrible after the locker room incident and grew more vicious as time went on. When prom happened and he saw me dancing with my lover, I guess he just snapped. I don’t know if he was jealous that I was out and proud, angry that I wasn’t ashamed to be gay, or disgusted that I was kissing my male lover on the middle of the dance floor at his senior prom. I don’t know the reason for his attack, and frankly it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he took a bat to my head for whatever reason and changed my life forever. 

I am finally now realizing that it wasn’t my fault, that his animosity towards me was his problem, not mine. My head was bashed in with a baseball because I was a gay man who had the audacity to dance with and kiss the man he loved at his senior prom. To him, that was an unforgivable move. Three years later I am finally able to put all this behind me. Luckily, that man is still in my life, and with him by my side I have finally been able to move on. Though I can’t remember that night, I will never forget what happened.”

Justin was excellent and I have never been more fucking proud of him. After he finished speaking there was not a dry eye in the house. Even my eyes felt moist but that could have been due to the high pollen content in the air. I knew that Justin found closure when he finished his speech. Sharing his story helped to lift the burden from him. I knew he would be able to move on, and so would I. I’m glad I went. We both found the closure we had unconsciously been seeking. 

That night we made love, slowly and tenderly and when we were done I wrapped my arms around my lover. When I could feel him beginning to fall asleep I kissed his lips, whispered “I love you” in his ear, and then fell asleep in the only place I truly feel safe, in Justin’s arms in our bed.


End file.
